Father Shale awoke with a start. He had been having such a terrible dream that he was now glad to be awake from it. Still, the dream lingered and he stood up to use the bathroom. He passed the clock and noticed that it was only two in the morning. He shook his head at the earliness of the hour as he walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. He looked in the mirror. His fifty eight years were started to show in unflattering ways. His skin was wrinkled and his hair was dull and lackluster. Permanent bags had formed under his eyes straining against time and gravity. He turned on the faucet and bent over to splash water onto his sleepy face.
He turned off the light as he exited the bathroom. He crossed the room and sat down at his desk. He flipped the switch on his reading lamp and put on his eye glasses. On top of his desk sat a pile of bills, and since he could not sleep he decided to finish as many bills as the church’s diminishing funds would allow to be paid. He pulled the checkbook out of the desks side drawer when he heard a knock at the bedroom door. He let the bill fall limp as he stared at the door over the top of his lenses that rested on the tip of his nose. What could Sister Maureen possibly want at this time of night? He thought to himself as he stood up from his desk as fast as his aged back would allow and took off his glasses placing them back on the desk. He shuffled slowly to the door, his slippers making soft sounds as he walked.
He opened the door to a dark empty hallway and stuck his head out to look both ways down the moonlit corridor. He closed the door and turned around to go back to his desk, when he heard the knock again. He turned around and stopped staring at the closed door. The knock came again louder and more persistent. He reached out and opened the door quickly and looked around. His senses prickled and his skin formed goosebumps as he yet again looked into an empty hallway. He went to close the door and lock it when he heard a little voice.
“Wait, don’t close the door,” the little voice said. Father Shale looked down at the shape of a person, only smaller, sitting by the corner of his door on the floor. His eyes adjusted to the night and he noticed it was one of the homeless kids from downstairs. She was sobbing softly with her head in her arms. Father Shale bent down and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Why are you crying dear?” he asked as he gently lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. She wiped away tears that fell like rain as she tried to speak. She looked into his fatherly eyes and sniffled starting to cry harder as she forced words from her mouth.
“There’s monsters downstairs!” she wailed, as she wrapped her arms around the priest who stood up with her still attached around his neck. He let out a chuckle.
“Monsters huh?” he asked with mock concern. “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can scare off these monsters.” The girl looked at the priest so frightened that her eyes looked as if they would bulge from her head.
“No, we can’t go down there! They will eat us!” she exclaimed with all the seriousness in the world. Father Shale looked at her and paused for a second.
“Oh come now, there are no monsters down there I assure you.” He started to walk towards the stairs when the little girl released her hold on his neck and fell to the floor running back down the hall, and sat back down by the bedroom door. Father shale shrugged and letting the girl be and cautiously walked down the stairs, listening to anything that would give him an idea of what the girl could be so frightened of; but the air was still and quiet. When he made it to the basement door near the first floor kitchen he went to pick up a heavy candlestick holder for protection when he thought better of it. I’m getting caught up in the frightened child’s fancy and need to compose myself. He opened the door to the basement and noticed the clock in the kitchen said two o’clock. The power must have went out, he thought as he made his way down the basement stairs. It was dark and musty and the old stairs creaked under his weight. He felt over head for the cord, grasped hold and pulled it, lighting the basement up to the most horrible of sites.
Black twisted nightmares surrounded the priest, blood covering their monstrous faces and crooked teeth as they looked up from their feast. Every one of the people that Father Shale sheltered had been destroyed by the seething mass of hunger. Blood covered the walls and ceiling. Father Shale turned to run but slipped on the blood that pooled on the floor falling face first into it. He let out a shriek as he tried to pick himself up.
“Do not fear my Dark Children servant, they just need to feed,” a deep dark voice pierced his ears shooting pain through his body. He turned over blood dripping into his mouth from his hair and face. He struggled in the slippery fluid to no avail, as he backed into the knarled legs of one of the creatures who looked down at him with its eyeless head somehow sensing his every movement. Its snout spread wide and its teeth glistened: It looked as if it was about to strike out and finish him when it recoiled in fear or pain, he could not decide which. The sea of twisted bodies moved away from the priest as the wounded man from early in the evening walked towards him. His one arm held out towards the man on the floor with an open hand to help the priest up. Father shale refused to take the offered hand, fear gripping his body. The tattoos on the man seemed to float upon his skin changing shape. The badly burned flesh had healed into healthy pink skin. His black eyes burned with fire.
“I do not need help from you demon,” his voice squeaked as he tried to wipe the blood from his eyes. The naked man made a gesture with his hand and the priest stood up rigid against his will. The man made another move sending the priest flying across the room slamming him face first into the far wall. He started to black out from the impact but fought hard against the feeling. A magical force spun his body around pinning his back to the wall. He cried out in pain as the evil man slowly walked towards him, his face wicked. “Why?” he screamed as he surveyed the horror and horrendous beasts all over the room. “Why are you doing this? We helped you.”
“Because servant, the man that you work for, well let’s just say I owe him for something he has done to me.” He stopped in front of the man and bent his head next to the immobile helpless man and sniffed his fear, draining the man’s strength.
“Whatever it was he did to you, I think you deserved it.” The one armed man pulled away and looked at the priest with anger. Father Shale stared defiantly into the man’s black eyes, all of his fear gone as he accepted his horrible fate. Mheclem’s face split into a smile and flames danced in his eyes.
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The sunny day made Sister Maureen smile as she walked from her car with a giant bag of groceries in her arms. She breathed in the sweet morning air and exhaled, today is going to be a good day she thought as she pressed the bag of groceries against the wall next to the door, and pulled her key from her little cloth purse. She unlocked the door and bear hugged the grocery bag walking into the rectory’s kitchen. Usually the television or radio would be on but today it was unusually quiet inside. She put the groceries down on the wobbly folding table and consulted her list of morning chores on the refrigerator bulletin board. She crossed out get groceries with a dry erase marker and put it down and called out loud for Father Shale, but there was no response.
Sister Maureen left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to check if he was in his bedroom. She walked down the hall and found his bedroom door opened and his bed a mess, which was strange because he always made his bed first thing. She was about to leave when she saw movement under the bed. She bent down and saw a little girl hiding underneath the bed.
“What are you doing down there dear?” she asked and the little girl crawled out from under the bed. She did not say anything. Sister Maureen could tell that the girl had been crying. She looked disheveled. “What’s wrong dear, where is Father Shale?” The girl looked freaked her eyes darted this way and that. The next instant she broke into a run, and tried to get past Sister Maureen who reached down and grabbed the girls arm. The girl fought to free herself to no avail, the powerful woman arrested her momentum. “Why are you running, where is Father Shale?” she demanded confused.
“The monsters ate him, the monsters ate him!” she screamed and kicked the Sister in the shin. Sister Maureen released her grip on the child, and the little kid ran down the stairs and out the rectory door. The sting wore off as she rubbed her leg. What is going on she thought and hurried to the basement to see if Father Shale was down there. She reached the door and opened it. A pungent smell hit her right in the face, and she almost retched. She pulled some fabric up from her sweater to cover her nose from the smell, as her heart raced. She slowly walked down the stairs. The light in the basement was flickering on and off. Then she noticed the horror. Blood was everywhere. Torn clothes and shoes lie about and she nearly slipped in the thick slightly sticky blood on the floor. Beds were thrown everywhere, but there was no bodies, no bones, just destruction and blood. She turned to run back up the stairs when she saw him.
Father Shale hung from the wall on a wooden cross. His stomach torn open, his ribs split apart and all his inside piled on the floor beneath him. His face was stained with blood. His hands and feet had been nailed to the cross. Sister Maureen let out a cry as she broke down and collapsed on the floor crying.
